


High-Flying Bird

by Bionerd2Point0



Series: JayTim Week 2020 [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Day 2 - Fairy Tale AU, Fluff, Gerry the Gnome, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, JayTimWeek2020, M/M, Magic, Magical Creatures, Pixie!Tim, Tim is a salty boy, mentioned magical creature poaching, potion making, witch!jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bionerd2Point0/pseuds/Bionerd2Point0
Summary: Stopping on his stone path, several feet away from the tiny house, Jason squatted down. “Hey, Timberlina!” he said in a sing-songy voice, “You home?”The curtains on one of the second floor windows whipped back revealing a messy head of black hair and a scowl better suited to middle school principals.“What do you want?” Tim’s waspish tone did nothing to curb Jason’s good mood.“Well, I’ve got a potion that I could use your help with, but you look a little grumpy. If you need your beauty sleep, I could probably figure it out on my own…”
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: JayTim Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765741
Comments: 32
Kudos: 221
Collections: JayTimWeek





	High-Flying Bird

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to Feriswheel for beta’ing this!! She puts up with all my “buts” and “as”s and somehow makes everything better… 
> 
> Also a shout-out to Silver_Snow_77 for giving me tons of information and resources on magic/mythology for this!! I ignored 90% of it to make it fit what I had in my head, but I was able to include a few details that are more accurate than just random flora that sounded cool. 
> 
> Did I borrow the title from Elton John? Yes, yes I did. This fic is what started this whole mess, and ended up being less of a fairy tale AU and more of a fantasy AU where the magical creatures make fun of Thumbelina and Harry Potter… Oh well! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!!

Jason finished tying up the sage to dry, taking a deep breath of the fresh herbs. He'd gotten the package this morning, and it had taken every ounce of self-discipline in his body to not just close up shop for the day. Now, though? Now, he was almost done with the workday, and excitement thrummed through his body.

Reigning it in, he kept his movements carefully controlled as he waved away the blue fire in the lantern out front and locked the front door to the apothecary. When Jason was satisfied with the state of the front room and that everything was stocked and ready for the next day, he finally let go of some of his control, stepping into the back prep area with a grin on his face. 

The stairs to his loft stood to the side, ready to welcome him up after a long day. The day wasn’t over yet.

Jason pulled out one of his smaller caldrons, setting it next to the old book of spells and potions that had been living on his workbench for the past several weeks. Most of the ingredients he needed were already waiting, and the rest were within easy grabbing range. A jar of lizard tails found its way onto the long table, and the long, thin box he had received this morning was set carefully out of the way. 

The potion was ancient and had been a pain in the ass to get a hold of, but the recipe itself was actually quite simple, with a few exceptions. 

A slurry of honey, ground truffle, and dandelion root paste was gently heated and acted as the base for the rest of the potion. The honey would help keep wounds from becoming infected while the truffle and dandelion would work to reduce inflammation. A pinch of bone dust—god, Jason hated that measurement—to target the healing process, followed by three drops of lotus oil. A single ground eucalyptus leaf—fresh, not dried—and a thimbleful of yarrow paste.

He couldn’t understand how some of these old witches and potioneers had survived without a standard measurement system. The teaspoon hadn’t been proposed for measuring things out until the late 1600s, and there was no way this particular potion that young. Recreating potions this old was always a lesson in patience; he was forced to try and figure out what size thimble was considered the standard all those years ago.

The mandrake root was grated without any complaints from the root, despite what pop culture liked to claim on the matter. It also marked the end of the “simple” part of the potion. 

The downside to old potions was that they were written before the laws demanding ethical treatment of magical creatures and the code of ethics on determining sentience. Poachers and black market traders still dealt in illegal trades, like pixie wings and unicorn blood, but for those with a moral compass, when a recipe—like this one—called for dragon egg shell, the only way to get it was to personally know a dragon. And hope the dragon had saved the shells from their last clutch. 

Jason was very lucky, in that he was a witch who fit within those parameters, and that the collected fragments of a full dragon egg shell could be rationed properly to the point where he wouldn’t run out in his lifetime. Having crushed half of it into powder years ago, he pulled out the sealed jar to measure out “one beetle eye’s” worth. 

Sometimes he really hated being a potioneer. 

The final ingredient would require a bit of a field trip and was the reason Jason had put so much effort into the potion in the first place.

After wiping his hands off on a clean towel, he straightened out his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair, making sure he looked at least halfway presentable. With his bangs sitting just right and the braid on the side refreshed, he figured that was as good as it was going to get and headed out the back door.

Somehow, by some divine twist of fate, Jason had collected a garden of stray magical creatures. He could never pinpoint when it had started—lies, it had started with Toaster, that damn cat—and most of them came and went at their leisure, but a few had made his backyard their home. 

Gerry the gnome lived under the back step and liked to stand guard in front of the little door that Jason had installed to his underground home. He’d vanish on occasion; Jason had the sneaking suspicion he liked to steal the garden decorations from his neighbors, but Jason also refused to see what kind of hoard Gerry kept in his hidey-hole, giving him plausible deniability. 

Gerry was also missing the top half of his hat—which was technically part of a gnome’s head—‘cause some idiot kid had decided to punt the poor guy down the block. Luckily, Jason had intervened and had the supplies on hand to stop the cracks from traveling further into Gerry’s body and killing him. 

Everyone else came and went at their leisure, using the collection of messy huts that Jason had assembled on the far side of the garden—far away from where he grew all of his herbs and plants with magical properties that could prove fatal when handled improperly.

Closer to the plants of importance stood a tall willow tree, and at its base lived the garden’s second permanent resident. 

Jason had assembled the waist-high house with much more care, weaving his magic into the bones of the structure and finding the materials necessary to assemble the small furniture. Its inhabitant had been too wary to appreciate it at the time, but had since grown to be Jason’s closest companion, even if he denied any and all attachment to Jason.

Stopping on his stone path several feet away from the tiny house, Jason squatted down. “Hey, Timberlina!” he said in a sing-songy voice, “You home?”

The curtains on one of the second floor windows whipped back revealing a messy head of black hair and a scowl better suited to middle school principals.

“What do you want?” Tim’s waspish tone did nothing to curb Jason’s good mood.

“Well, I’ve got a potion that I could use your help with, but you look a little grumpy. If you need your beauty sleep, I could  _ probably _ figure it out on my own…”

That earned him a middle finger, and Tim vanished back into the house. He was most likely coming down, so Jason counted it as a win. The pixie was out the front door in under a minute, looking for all the world like he was on a mission for murder. 

“You’re lookin’ pretty grumpy today, Timmy. Any particular reason you’re so full of piss and vinegar?”

Jason knew exactly why Tim was so upset. Today was the six year anniversary of having his wings ripped off by black market traders. He couldn’t help but feel it was irony at its best that his package had arrived today.

“Yeah, you keep butchering my name with that little fairy gnat.” Tim was scowling, though it didn’t stop him from climbing up onto Jason’s outstretched hand.

The difference between pixies and fairies was distinct. Pixies could be anywhere from eight to fourteen inches tall and had a significant level of natural magic under their control even without formal training. 

Fairies were about the size of Jason’s thumb and dumber than a box of rocks. Thumbelina was the unfortunate result of what happened when mundane people didn’t bother to research the difference before publishing a story.

Giving Tim a moment to find his footing, Jason lifted him up so he could settle on his shoulder. Tim grabbed onto the dangling braid just behind Jason’s ear, which was definitely not there for that exact purpose, and Jason clambered to his feet.

“So. What’s this potion that you need my help with? A commission?” Tim leaned into the side of Jason’s head, holding steady with ease borne from years of growing accustomed to Jason’s gait.

“Not a commission, just something I’m trying out. It’s ridiculously old, but if it works, it should boost healing when reattaching limbs. The description talks about full nerve and blood vessel regeneration, though given how far the recipe’s fallen into obscurity, I’m not totally convinced it’s not a load of dragon shit,” Jason said, pushing open his back door.

Tim stepped onto his hand when it was offered, and Jason transferred him to the tabletop. “You’re convinced enough to try it. How complex is the spell?” He moved over to the open book to read through the instructions, Jason clearing away everything they wouldn’t need.

“It’s not actually that complex, so much as just really difficult to get some of those ingredients.”

"By the springs and rivers,” Tim swore softly, voice quiet enough that Jason had to strain to hear. “Dragon egg shell alone is just about the rarest magical substance around,” he continued in a louder voice. “And it says you need to stir the mixture clockwise with the branch of an elder tree wrapped in unicorn hair?”

“Yup. While adding a ‘dash of pixie dust.’” Jason was definitely not smirking.

Tim’s head snapped up to scowl at Jason before he buried his head in his hands and groaned mournfully. “It’s not  _ pixie dust _ , Iyvei help me! You  _ know _ this. And you know  _ I _ know, you know this. Asshole.” He shifted his hands up to yank at his hair as Jason laughed, grumbling the whole time. “Fucking ‘pixie dust.’ Stupid mundanes. Don’t know a thing and go around spreading lies. It’s the  _ physical manifestation of natural magic, _ and they call it pixie dust. Idiots.”

Jason continued chuckling at Tim’s rambling, pulling out his elder branch and the tin he kept a coil of unicorn hairs in. The recipe didn’t specify whether they would be salvageable in the end, but it only called for three hairs, and it was a worthy cause. 

“Hey, Timbers, mind pausing your yapping to pull out one of those lizard tails for me?”

Tim didn’t stop grumbling, though he did uncap the jar and pull out the requested tail with a twist of his wrist.

“I want it to be known,” he started, “that I resent this. I thought you actually needed help, not just Essence, and if you try to shake me over the pot, I’ll jinx you so hard your kids will come out cross eyed.”

A mirthful smile danced across Jason’s face as he tied the last unicorn hair into place. “It’s a good thing I’m not planning on having kids then, ain’t it? And what gave you the idea I thought pixies worked like salt shakers?”

“Well, you’ve never asked for Essence before, and there’s times when you look an awful lot like a neanderthal.” The slant of Tim’s brows still broadcasted irritation, but the quirk of his lips proved differently and Jason mentally crowed in victory. 

Physically, he shrugged. “Haven’t needed it before now,” he said. “Most spells and potions need beetle eyes and lemongrass. Dragon pairs don’t nest more than once a millennia. The only thing this potion is missing is minotaur horn and mermaid tears and it would hit every epic magical substance on the list.”

“And pixie wings.” Tim’s face was forcibly neutral and hard enough to resemble granite.

“Pixie wings,” Jason started slowly, “are not a magical substance. Magical substances are not things that result in death or debilitating injury to magical creatures. Minotaurs shed their horns, and mermaids only cry when they’re happy. Hell, even lizard tails grow back. Pixie wings are not a  _ substance _ to be  _ used _ . We’ve had this conversation, and it’s not up for debate.”

Tim shrugged and didn’t argue. The grim truth was that until the law changed in the last century, people did consider pixie wings a substance. Pixies in general contained a substantial amount of magic, and wings were an easy way to utilize that—never mind that you could get the same results by asking a pixie for a pinch of Essence. That was too hard for some, apparently.

“Okay, c’mon, let’s do this thing.” 

Jason nudged Tim up to the edge of the caldron and picked up the whole lizard tail. With that in one hand and the elder branch in the other, they were ready to go.

“You do your magic dust, and then back up, because the second I finish the third turn, I have to drop this tail in, and I don’t want you to get splashed.”

Tim huffed a laugh. “That’s what I was planning on anyways.”

“Ready? And… go.” Jason started his first clockwise stir, watching Tim summon a handful of sparkling white powder seemingly out of nothing. He was a witch, but Tim used magic as if it took no effort at all. Hell, for all he knew, it didn’t.

Finishing the third stir, he dropped the tail in, pulling the elder branch out at the same time. The potion, which up until this point had been a rather disgusting brown color, bubbled and hissed, churning itself rapidly. Jason couldn’t resist reaching out and grabbing Tim, stepping back to put them both in range of cover, in case the thing decided to explode. 

Tim, who was normally very vocal about his dislike of being grabbed, remained quiet where he clung to Jason’s fingers, both of them watching the reaction happening in the caldron.

For several minutes, they watched the pot slowly calm to a simmer, the color rapidly changing from brown to shimmering white.

“Did it work?” Tim broke the silence when it became clear that the potion was done reacting.

Jason set him down on the table and went over to the book, rereading what the end result was supposed to look like even though he had memorized it weeks earlier.

“I think it did…” Twisting around to the counter behind him, he pulled his box of magically null tester sticks off the benchtop and set it next to the caldron. 

A whispered spell, and the tip of his left pinky finger split open. He dipped one of the small sticks into the gooey potion, then carefully spread it over the wound.

It didn’t burn or sting. The tip of his finger actually grew numb, and they watched the applied goo start crystallizing, hardening into a protective barrier that would crumble when the wound was finished healing.

“Is it supposed to do that?” Tim came over and cradled Jason’s finger in his hands, shifting it to examine the site.

“Yup.” Jason’s tongue felt thick in his mouth, nervous now that he had confirmation it worked, but Tim was off rambling about the possibilities of application.

“This is really interesting. And you had to use so little of it. How well does it store?”

“Tim.”

“I mean, you just had a simple wound, and we don’t know for sure if it would work on something as complex as a full amputation. I wonder if it could be applied to areas with deadened nerves...”

“Tim.”

“Lizard tails often boost regrowth, so it’s plausible it could help in the cases of severe burns too. What about genetic mutations? Could it regrow nerves that were never there to start with? Or that have degenerated—”

“Tim!”

Tim cut himself off, finally realizing Jason had something to say. “What?”

“Do you remember the Addlewoods? The pixie couple who are customers of mine?”

Tim made a face. He had largely avoided interaction with other pixies since his attack. “Yeah. What of it?”

“They were customers for so long because Mr. Addlewood was sick. He died a few days ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry?” Tim said slowly. “Why are you telling me this?”

Jason reached under the table to the shelf where he had stashed his package on. It had come with a note saying the stasis charm it was under would be broken when the box was opened and to not open it until he was ready to use the contents. 

He untied the twine holding it closed and carefully worked the top of the box off. Setting the box on the table, he stepped back and let Tim take in the contents of the box. 

Tim was silent for a long, long time.

Shoulders shaking and voice strained, he finally spoke. “Iyvei above,  _ Jason _ .” He looked up, tears streaking away from wide eyes. “Tell me you’re not joking. Tell me this is possible.”

He knelt down so his head was level with the table and he could look up at Tim. “I’m not lying. This is possible. I don’t know if it’ll work for sure, but we have the opportunity to try, and that’s more than I thought I could offer." He took a deep breath, feeling like he was baring his heart. "I spoke with a few pixie healers about how to reattach wings, and they might have been under the impression it was a recent injury and I was using the original wings, but I have a good idea of how to do it. You need to know that there are risks, though. This might not work at all, and even if it does, you may never have the same speed or range of motion as you used to."

"Like that  _ matters _ . Jason, you're giving me my  _ wings _ back!" Shoulders trembling, Tim gripped the side of the small box to steady himself.

"I'm going to try to, at the very least. If you're willing?" Jason reached forward, brushing one finger along the length of Tim's back. 

"I'm willing," Tim said firmly. "What do we need to do?"

-

Two weeks later, Tim's first flight in six years ended with a kiss on Jason's cheek. If his heart seemed to beat in time with Tim's wings? Well. He was a potion master. He could find the cure. 


End file.
